When the cards are not in your favor

"When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on." — Franklin D. Roosevelt

A

nd tonight, I’m doing just that; tying up Relly’s rope with an exposure-therapy date at the Sheraton. Relly has been suffering from highly stressful symptoms of PTSD (Post Traumatic Sheraton Disorder) for the past few months. She has nothing personal against the Sheraton — you know, the one with green couches — it’s just that every time she goes there on a date, something bizarre happens. But apparently the stories are only funny for the people listening; Relly is anything but laughing as she recalls the last time she was at the Sheraton, and her date’s finger got stuck in the automatic sliding door. Unclear how, but bottom line is that poor Relly spent the evening chauffeuring him to the emergency room and coaching him through his fear of blood. The Shadchan said he had a great time through it all, and she definitely kept him in stitches. But now Relly’s the one who needs some healing.

She isn’t too enthusiastic about tonight’s activity, and only agreed to go along with me on condition that we do it properly — Diet Coke, heels, and all. And this is why, on a wonderful Wednesday evening at 6:33 p.m., I’m shirking all responsibilities and being an incredibly loyal friend, driving Relly to the Sheraton.

I see Relly’s fists tighten as my black Camry slowly pulls up at the grand entrance. I’m shocked there isn’t a big “Welcome, Relly!” sign hanging; she’s there practically every Sunday evening at seven. We’re hardly out of the car, and I already feel a DOA in the making. Relly is barely talking; she seems to have lost all interest in this grand plan. This is going to take a lot more out of me than I thought.

I finally coax Relly out of the car, and we hobble inside. We may be single, but that doesn’t mean we’ve mastered the art of three-and-a-half inches. Spotting a quiet, rounded booth in the corner, tucked away from the rest of the dates here tonight, we make our way over and settle in. I awkwardly ask her about her siblings, hoping she’ll warm up, but the conversation is still stilted as we segue from F to ISH. I’m honestly not sure if it’s because Relly is lost in her own thoughts, or our friendship is too deep to make small talk. I pull out the universal first date trick.

“How about a walk? It looks nice out.” Relly seems to come alive as she jumps at the opportunity to leave this haunted hotel. She takes one look at her heels, though, and smiles ruefully.

“Don’t worry, not on the boardwalk, I know the drill all too well.”